Not a Tourist
by Merida's Hair
Summary: "Terrorizing and controlling were her domain, being called her own given name in a tone of such longing and tenderness was so foreign that she stood rooted on the sidewalk as that flash of red materialized in front of her." from Imagine your OTP: Imagine your OTP being separated for months, and Person A thinks Person B is dead, only to run into them on the street where they can do


The streets are busy, and Regina is lost in their many colors and directions and shouts. Years ago she would have despised being one of many, but with her past threatening to catch up with her and make her relive every last demon that she's already relived, she's grateful for the madness of crowds.

Then she sees a flash of red. Over the years there that had been many, a flash of blond, a bright red jacket on the wrong person, a little boy reading a comic book and calling someone else _Mom_, and feeling the heartache clench so tightly when she had no right to feel it.

But this time, there's a name. _Her_ name. She's startled by it, having not heard it deliberately for so long. Even _Your Majesty_ or _Madam_ _Mayor_ would have registered less shock in her system, put her in a place of vast familiarity. Terrorizing and controlling were her domain, being called her own given name in a tone of such longing and _tenderness_ was so foreign that she stood rooted on the sidewalk as that flash of red materialized in front of her.

Emma's eyes are so bright, so relieved, and Regina wants to push her away away, another gush of unused magic, because she never deserved it. Arms are then wrapped around her and she fights with all her might, beating her fists, but she's been fighting all her life and it's never gotten her anywhere. Just a curse that failed, a son that didn't love her, a kingdom she made to hate her. A kingdom she still feels such keen loathing for even now, and for the ruler of that kingdom. Her winning while she herself loses. Regina hasn't healed in all this time, just has been running away and away again. Before she deal with her pain the only way she knew, violence and a threatening presence and a cruel smirk.

And then came Storybrooke, her curse and creation, and Henry with his little boy smile that warmed her heart so chilled, and Emma with her beat up car and the way she never feared Regina once, and the way Regina had to leave them all lest she go insane once more. A different way of running, leaving her creation, something of her child as well in its own right. Then the healing never started, because she needed _her_ to heal, and she hated that fact. Hated how it took the goddamn _Savior, _in all that irony, to bring her from that darkness she'd dwelled in for so long. Still had a limb or two in, clutching with the last of her reserves._  
_

But it's _Emma._ The hidden equation. The one who loved her when no one else dared. The one she _chose._

The Savior saves the Queen, and maybe someday the Queen saves her back.

So her fists stop. They ball up in that damn red jacket she should have burned when it was draped across the chair in their bedroom. And she cries and cries into Emma's neck and wills herself to stop, but she doesn't. Because she doesn't feel that all-encompassing emptiness for one moment. She feels _relieved._ (They won't bring up her outburst tomorrow. Tomorrow it'll be back to _Miss Swan_ and bickering she swears she didn't miss).

"I found you." Emma offers, stumbling a bit on her words, but that intent of affection is clear in her eyes.

"Oh we are _not_ starting anything like that, Miss Swan." Regina huffs, but her voice is scratchy and she's still wrapped up in Emma's arms and her words don't have any bite._  
_

"Right." Emma laughs, although her voice hitches halfway. She presses a kiss to the top of Regina's head.

"I would have expected a lot more harsh words by now. Maybe even a slap." Regina says curiously and suspiciously.

"Oh believe me, the temptation is still there. But it's…waned over the years. I'm just…glad that-"

_"Why?_"

Emma looks down at her confusedly. "Why what?"

Regina laughs sardonically, furling and unfurling her fists in the jacket. She then looks clear up into Emma's eyes, her own full of the pain of the years and a darkness that never left and never really will.

"Why do you keep fighting for me? I hardly deserve it. Your _parents_ and the whole of Storybrooke would agree."

Emma just holds her tighter, because there never really was an answer to that question. However a few moments Emma lifts her chin and attempts to answer it.

"Because we _both_ deserve happiness after all the shit that's happened in our lives for the sake of destiny."

Regina chuckles. "Congratulations, dear. That was almost philosophical and thought provoking."

Emma just mutters a 'mhm' and wipes a tear that managed to escape Regina's eyes. Regina is caught off-guard like she had been when Emma had first called her name, and she is so lost, so confused, but Emma's arms are keeping her grounded. As they always seemed to.

"Home?" She asks cautiously, but hopefully.

"Home."


End file.
